


The Fine Art of Seduction

by Carapatzin



Series: Of Noblemen and Wildmen [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bad Pick-Up Lines, Elf With a Sailor Mouth, Finn Lavellan, Humor, M/M, One Shot, Romance, Sexual Humor, Silly, Why Did I Write This?, alcohol involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4173711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carapatzin/pseuds/Carapatzin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After one too many ales in Skyhold's tavern, Finn Lavellan decides to try and "seduce" Dorian with absolutely awful pick-up lines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fine Art of Seduction

Finn downed the last drop of his flagon of red ale, surveying Skyhold’s tavern.  The chattering of people and clinking of glasses was a pleasant din around him, a sort of relaxing hum in his sensitive elven ears.  At this time in the evening the light filtering into The Herald’s Rest was cozy and buttery-orange, giving the tavern a warm, relaxing feel.

Satisfied, he lowered his arm and thumped the flagon against the rough-hewn surface of the oak table.

“Careful there, _amatus,”_ Dorian said from next to him, tsking his tongue.  He skimmed a warm hand down Finn’s spine, resting it on the small of his back.  “Isn’t there some popular adage about ‘breaking it and buying it’?”

“That’d only happen if I _broke_ the table,” Finn said, patting it with the flat of his palm. The robin’s-egg blue lines of _vallaslin_ along his forearm blurred and blended slightly in his vision from the movement.  “And it knows better than to break.”

“…you’re drunk, aren’t you?”  It was phrased with barely any upwards inflection at the end, as though it was more of an assumption than a question.

“And you’re sexy.”

“That’s a ‘yes’.”  Dorian nonchalantly took a sip of his deep red pinot noir.

“I thought we were both stating the painfully obvious,” Finn said. 

Come to think of it, maybe that perpetual rushing sound in his head was his own inebriated dizziness.  It suddenly made sense.

 He dragged a hand through his own frost-white hair and glanced over at Dorian, studying him.  One corner of the Tevene mage’s mouth was pulled up into an amused smirk, his timberwolf grey eyes slightly heavy-lidded from wine.  His skin looked as dark and smooth as brandy in the warm evening glow inside the tavern.

“I’m going to try something,” Finn said, bracing his hand on Dorian’s strong shoulder so he could climb off the bench and stand.  “Sit right here.”

“Do I even want to know what you’re intending?” Dorian asked, lifting an eyebrow and taking another sip of wine, this one longer than the previous.

“I’m going to perform the feat of picking you up in a bar,” Finn said with a cheeky grin, giving the back of Dorian’s head a bit of an affectionate scratch.

“…Maker help us all.”

“Oh, _stop,”_ Finn said, leaning briefly on one hip.  “Trust me, it’ll be fun.”

“More terrifying words have never been spoken.”  But Dorian was obviously teasing, from the entertained look on his face.  He smirked again, giving Finn a dismissive wave with the back of his hand.  “Go on, then.  You’ve got me curious now.”

“Prepare yourself,” Finn shot back, teasingly, then turned and strode off to another table.

He’d inadvertently picked the table Varric was sitting at; the dwarf had a whole mess of parchments spread on the table in front of him, and he was bent over one of them, a quill in hand.  Finn swiped Varric’s whiskey and took a swig.

“I was drinking that, Frosty,” Varric said without even looking up.  His quill pen made a continuous _scritch, scritch_ on the parchment.

“You can share one sip.”  Finn set the glass back down and gave Varric a pat on the shoulder.  “Have to run.  I’m trying to pick up Dorian.”

“You’re trying to—”  Varric’s head shot up, a grin on his face, and he set down the quill.  “Andraste’s ass.  This I have to see.”

“Wish me luck,” Finn said.

“You don’t need luck,” Varric said.  “You two are already—”

But Finn had already left Varric’s table, approaching Dorian from behind and resting his hands on Dorian’s shoulders.  He wasn’t certain, but he thought he could feel Dorian chuckling.

“Hey there,” Finn said, experimentally trying to deepen his voice and wipe out some of the lilting Starkhaven accent.  “I lost my last name.  Can I have yours?”

Dorian audibly snorted.

“Sweet Maker,” the fellow mage said, shaking his head amusedly and downing some more wine.  “ _That’s_ what you lead off with?  I can’t say I have high hopes for the rest of your attempts.”

“Ye of little faith,” Finn said.  “I suppose I’ll have to try again?”

“Certainly,” Dorian said.  “Go on.  Shoo.  I do rather like the view of you walking away.”

_Dorian_ was probably doing a better job than Finn was, and the former wasn’t even trying.  Thwarted, Finn turned and headed for Varric’s table once again, figuring that was as good as any of a recharging point for him to think of an even more ludicrous pick-up line.  He briefly leaned a hand against the table, thinking, as Varric looked up at him and tried to contain a laugh; then Finn pushed off the table and headed for Dorian again.

“Just so you know,” Finn said, leaning on Dorian’s shoulders and whispering in his ear, “if I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d remove the space between ‘u’ and ‘i’.”

Dorian breathed out a quick burst of a laugh through his nose.  “The execution was good, I’ll admit, but the line itself is just sad.”

Finn wrinkled his nose.  “You’re impossible.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.  I think you’ll find me entirely possible if you’d quit scraping lines off the bottom of the metaphorical barrel.”

Well, nothing left to do but try again.  Finn returned to Varric’s table, narrowly dodging a redheaded waitress cradling a dozen empty wooden mugs in her arms.

“Back for round three?” Varric asked.

“I’m shittier at this than I thought,” Finn admitted, sitting on the side of the table.

“I never expected any less of you, Frosty,” Varric joked.  “Oh, and just so you know…you’re loud enough to hear and I’m writing all of these down.  They’re pure gold.”

“I’ll probably hate you in the morning when I’m sober,” Finn shot back, adding a grin to lessen the effect.

“And I probably won’t give a shit,” Varric said.  “Come on, go pick up Sparkler and give me more hilarious ammunition.”

“The things I do for you,” Finn said, leaving him.

The room actually swirled a little, before he reached the table where Dorian was sitting.  Whoops.  No more stealing Varric’s whiskey.

“ _Soooo…”_ Finn drawled, moving to Dorian’s side and looping an arm around his shoulders.  “Nice pants.  I think they’d look great on my bedroom floor.”

Dorian nearly spat out his wine.

“Maker’s breath, _no,”_ Dorian said, recovering and letting his forehead thump down on the table’s surface.

“It wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“ _Au contraire._ ”  Dorian lifted his head, turning to look at Finn.“It might have been the worst one yet.”

“Well, fuck me sideways,” Finn said.  “I’m all out of ideas.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow, his gaze darkening.  “You know, if you keep issuing challenges such as that, I might have to answer them.”

What— _oh._

“Should I go along _those_ lines, then?” Finn asked with a wink, straddling the bench next to Dorian and leaning his cheek on his shoulder. 

“You’re getting there.”  Dorian tilted his head to press a swift kiss to Finn’s forehead.

Finn made a purring noise by rolling his tongue.  “Tell you _everything_ I want you to do to me?”

“Mmm.  That’s better.”

“Maybe…do this?”  Finn grazed his teeth on Dorian’s shoulder, over the fabric of his tunic, keeping his ice-blue eyes fixed on Dorian’s grey ones.

He _could_ have—and would have—performed more acts with his mouth and teeth, but Dorian was already getting up off the bench.  Finn followed suit, wondering if Dorian just didn’t want him to go too much farther while in public.  Then Dorian stooped, grabbed Finn around the middle, and flung him over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Taking me somewhere?” Finn said, making his voice a little throaty.  “ _Forcibly?”_

“What can I say?”  Dorian gave Finn’s rear a light smack as he headed for the stairs.  “You expertly seduced me.”

“So you’re saying I should try this again sometime.”

Dorian chuckled as he carried Finn up the steps, and said, “no…let’s not go _that_ far.”


End file.
